The wave is maybe thirty seconds from impact. Twenty. Fifteen.
We reach out with our combined power—not trying to stop the wave’s momentum, but to change its direction. To bend it. To use Caspian’s own weapon against him.
The massive wall of water responds to our will, sluggish at first, resistant to anything except its original trajectory. But we’re not asking it to stop. Just to turn. Just to arc back toward the river instead of continuing down the valley.
Ten seconds from impact.
The wave begins to bend. Not enough. Not fast enough. It’s going to hit anyway—going to kill people anyway—going to prove that we failed?—
Zara screams in my ear, and lightning explodes from her body in a sustained discharge that turns the river incandescent. I channel every amp, every volt, adding my hydrokinesis to create pressure that helps force the wave’s arc sharper.
Five seconds.
Four.
The wave bends harder. Turns. Curves back toward the river with agonizing slowness.
Three seconds.
Two.
It’s not going to be enough.
And then—impossibly—the wave diverts.
Not completely. The leading edge clips the first settlement, flooding streets but not destroying buildings. But the main force—the killing force—redirects back into the river system. Crashes back into its own channel with a roar that sounds like the world ending.
Water explodes upward. Mist fills the valley. And when it clears, the settlement stands. Damaged. Flooded. But standing.
Lives saved. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.
Zara collapses in my arms, utterly spent. I’m not much better—barely treading water, blood still seeping from a dozen wounds, vision graying at the edges.
But we did it. We stopped the wave.
Now we just have to stop Caspian before he tries again.
I look up to where he stands on the dam, and my blood runs cold.
He’s smiling. Not defeated. Not even particularly angry. Just—interested. Like we’re an experiment that produced unexpected results.
“Impressive,” he calls down. “You’re stronger than I thought. Strong enough, perhaps, that this requires a different approach.”
He raises both hands, and the cracks in the dam face glow with gathering energy.
He’s not going to create another wave.
He’s going to break the dam itself. Right now. Immediately.
And there’s nothing we can do to stop him.
18
ZARA
The dam is breaking. And I’m too broken to stop it.
I’m still in Torin’s arms, barely keeping my head above water. Every muscle screams. My lightning reserves are empty—past empty, into the territory where trying to generate more might just kill me. The wing that was healed through transformation aches with phantom pain, reminding me that even magic has limits.
